The woes of the Penguin
by Mizar and Alcor
Summary: Sequel to 'The song of the Nightingale! Set 20 years later. Oswald Cobblepot, now a reformed businessman, still getting over a tragedy which happened to him 5 years ago, is approached by a young orphan who has a shocking secret for him. Soon the past is all dug up and secrets are revealed and Oswald finds out something that Batman failed to tell him until now...
1. Chapter 1: Living here without you

Chapter 1: Living here without you

Authors note: Yes people I know it has been almost a year since I posted my final chapter of my other story. I have been meaning to write this for AGES but never had any real motivation till now. I hope you can all forgive me! And I'd like to thank **nadillaandlaprasthefireandice**for not only giving me the motivation to get back into writing, but also for making a story featuring Abigail Nighting! Please check it out and give her your support! Thank you all! And I hope you like this story just as much as the first one! Set 20 years after the events of 'Song of the Nightingale'. Oh and a final thing... this is still based on the BTAS Penguin! I have made references to the 'New Batman adventures' events but I am also changing things to keep it in the BTAS universe. Anyway now I have cleared that up... enjoy!

Five years. It's a long time to live without someone whom you have come to love. Well that is exactly what happened to me. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, I never once dreamed of living alone. But five years ago my life was changed forever. My wife, Abigail Cobblepot (previously Nighting), was taken away from me five years to the day from a lucky burglar who shot her dead in our own bedroom when she caught him trying to rob our safe. They never caught him of course. And ever since that painstaking day, I have never once shown any true happiness. There really isn't anything to be happy about. No, my mind is too consumed with being left alone to run our business that I don't really care about pleasure anymore. The only pleasure I had in life was taken from me five years ago.

It's been around twenty years since the time I met her; I still remember the first time I had laid my eyes on her. So defenceless against those two blasted thugs who tried to mug and kill her, but I hardly knew at the time that she would change my entire life for the better. Around ten years ago we finally reformed and decided to stay clear away from crime for good. We opened a nightclub or just a club if you wish to call it that, and called it the 'Iceberg Lounge'. It became our little business for members of the upper classes to come and have a good time among friends, but of course from time to time it became a hangout place for some of the newer and older Rogues of Gotham city.

Then there came the most painful day of my entire life, to lose my wife to a mere bullet. It was, and still is unbearable. These days I try to avoid making public appearances and often confide myself to my own solitary confinement. Call it grieving if you will, but many rumours often circulated from nosy customers and stuck up reporters because of this.

But I still have my comforts in life besides my birds. Jason Partridge, my personal assistant since Abigail's death, has been a tremendous help on running my business in my absence. I also still remain close with various past allies in my days as the Penguin. The majority have also joined me and gave up their pursuit of crime, except a few who seriously have issues, Mr. Freeze, Two-face and Killer Croc being examples. And there are others who simply went missing, Joker and Harley Quinn spring to mind, after a rather large incident a few years ago concerning a nuclear bomb and a big showdown on national television with them versus Batman, Batgirl and Robin as I recall from various news reports. And of course I also owe some sort of credit to the Batman, who went off my case permanently after I reformed. He even dropped by and supported me when Abigail died.

And of course society has changed over the past 20 years. No longer are there as many criminals as back in my day as the Penguin, sure there is still a lot of crime about but no where near as much as there used to be. I guess the criminals, like me, simply got bored with Batman's vigilante antics and merely moved away to other cities; other cities where cape and cowls aren't the prevailing fashion and vigilantes don't exist in the forms of bats. And of course Commissioner Gordon retired two years ago at the age of 72 and a new Commissioner came into action called Commissioner Bennett, he of course doesn't appreciate Batman as much as Gordon did, but that doesn't concern me anymore. I gave up the alias of the Penguin a long time ago.

Today was just your average day of running the business. It was merely 2 o'clock in the afternoon and we didn't open the doors of the Iceberg Lounge until 5. That gave me plenty of time to simply be alone with my dear birds or just by myself…well that was until two very close friends of mine came around rather unexpectedly to visit me.

…

I sat at my desk in my office signing various forms regarding catering, entertainment contracts and other various paper works' which all concerned all your average essential needs to run a club like the Iceberg Lounge. But like always my minds often wondered off into another world as I often got bored rather easily simply filling in bits of paper with a pen. My eyes darted around the room at my arctic décor, as my entire club was decorated, and pondered on various thoughts. Did the birds need feeding? Were my staff preparing for this evening? Would any of those damn reporters insist on getting an exclusive interview with me again concerning my personal life? Oh the joys of being a restaurateur. But it still wasn't the same without my dear Abigail being able to share these tasks with me.

My immediate attention was automatically gained as a sudden yet gentle knock on the door startled me from my thoughts, I raised my head as one of my employees opened the door ajar and popped her head through cautiously. I smiled and adjusted my monocle as she entered and placed both of her arms together as she smiled rather shyly.

"Sir, your friends Mr. Nygma and Mr. Crane have come round to visit you, would you like me to send them in?" She asked me briefly turning her head away towards the door then back to me again. She was one of my newer employees, Isabel Larkin, whom I nicknamed her Lark from time to time after the bird. She like my other female employees seem to be rather timid and shy toward me, but I guess it is because of my past reputation and the way I treated women if they ever double crossed me. For example, I kidnapped Veronica Vreeland back in my younger days for double crossing me, as you probably already know. But if they were like that around me, imagine how they'd be like around the Joker. Presuming he's still alive of course.

"Of course Isabel send them in," I replied cheerfully. She nodded and left the room briefly to call in my guests. I simply took my monocle out of my right eye to wipe on my black waist jacket before placing it back there again. A few seconds later the door re-opened and two middle aged tall distinguished gentlemen walked into the room casually grinning as they approached me. I simply stood from my chair and went to shake their hands as a greeting.

"Ozzy! How you doing you old feather brain?" Edward Nygma, who used to be known as the Riddler patted my shoulder as I made my way around the desk to lead my guests to the other room. Unlike many other numerous old acquaintances' I have, Nygma still likes to think he's still the ultimate genius and still has that self righteousness he always had back in his day. He had lost none of his intellect too, actually, all I can say is the only thing he has lost over the years is his hair colour. But I can talk; no longer do I have that long glossy black hair I used to have as my days as the Penguin. Now it is more like shorter and greyer. But despite his aging process Edward can still act like a snotty child at school when he tries to prove others wrong; typical Nygma. Also, his fashion sense still has something to be desired… would you believe the man still wears green suits? Talk about standing out in a public place.

"Same old, same old," I replied plainly "I find running my business rather lacking at times, it is lucky I have Jason and my staff to help me."

"Yeah, well you sure did this place up well, what was this building before it became the Iceberg Lounge?" Nygma enquired as we all sat around the table in the private room next to my office, where a selection of drinks were placed at the centre of the table. Of course Nygma helped himself but Jonathan, who still hadn't said a word, kept his hands placed on a book and didn't even pass a glance toward the drinks.

"I recall it was an abandoned warehouse," I raised my deformed hand to straighten my top hat on my head and then placed it back on the table comfortably. "I agree, we did an excellent job at renovating this place."

"I recall hiding out here once," Jonathan finally spoke up "It was a long time ago but I still remember, this is where I got Batgirl with my fear toxin and she almost fell to her death."

That was when it all went rather silent. Me and Edward simply stared blankly at Jonathan, yet another genius but nothing like Nygma. No Crane still did experiments with fear, but not ones like he did when he was the Scarecrow. No now he was restricted to a lab and was limited with what he could do. He was declared mentally sane around seven years ago and like me and Nygma, tried to resume a normal life. He, now dedicated his life to research, just as I to my club and Nygma to his self-built company.

"So how is your wife Nygma?" I enquired "She well?"

"Quite thanks," Edward replied taking a rather large sip of his drink before continuing his sentence "our son is going to college next term."

"That soon?" I felt my eyes widen in surprise "It doesn't seem like yesterday that he was just a toddler." It was true; after the Riddler reformed he met a woman and settled down with her and soon had a child. That was one privilege I never had in life, me and Abigail never had any children to raise. Just as well, raising a child in this city is not a good idea, especially back in my day with rabid inmates from Arkham and Stonegate running around.

"Time flies," Edward stated simply. I then turned my head in the direction of Jonathan and smiled curiously.

"What about you Jonathan? How's the research coming along?"

"Oh I have had several breakthroughs concerning my research since the last time we talked Oswald," I noticed Crane was fidgeting with the book he had brought with him. I knew he wanted to say something but like always Crane was a silent type, a lot quieter than Nygma.

"Dr. Crane here has published a book," Edward smirked poking a gloved thumb in Jonathan's direction in a quirky manner as Jonathan passed the book to me to have a quick read. I adjusted my monocle to read the front cover and the blurb aloud.

"The truth behind the fear, by Dr. Jonathan Crane," I read aloud and quickly flicked through the book curiously taking in odd words as I skimmed through the pages and its contents "this is really good Jonathan. But that is to be expected by the professor of psychology."

"Former professor," Crane corrected much to my surprise "the university never reinstated me after what happened when I became the Scarecrow."

We sat in a rather uncomfortable silence yet again as each of us tried to figure out a topic to discuss. We hadn't spoken for a while and I figured we would have a lot of catching up to do, but it turned out not to be the case. I noticed Nygma's eyes dart around the room obviously in deep thought but when his eyes landed on a particular object for quite a while I turned around to see what he was staring at and my heart suddenly dropped and a small frown appeared on my features. And it didn't help my situation with what Nygma was about to say next, as a matter of fact it made it ten times worse.

"So…" Edward said rather uncomfortably "how long has it been now?"

I instantly got what he was implying. After all I caught him staring at that portrait of Abigail behind me. It was the first one that I ever saw of her the night I saved her, the one taken before her accident. My head dropped down as I just gazed at the table blankly. I finally got the courage to reply to Nygma's query but it took a lot of guts to get my words out.

"Five years to the day on Friday," I felt my hands tremble just talking about it. Both Nygma and Crane went silent until Crane this time tried to break the tension rapidly building in the room.

"Such a shame, she was a miraculous woman," Jonathan said rather mournfully.

"Yes, I still remember the first time she appeared on the news," Edward reminisced "blew up Batman's car and almost killed him, if only she did. It would've made our situations so much easier."

I remained silent while they continued to praise my dead wife for her actions as the Nightingale. They didn't realize that even bringing her up in a conversation still hurt me tremendously. Sure it had been five years and most people usually get over deaths by this length of time, but not me. I will never get over her death, not until I join her that is.

"Are you going up to the cemetery?" Crane asked me and I nodded sadly.

"Yes, I ordered some flowers from the shop at the end of Hill street, which I shall pick up on Friday," I explained still feeling that dry lump rise in my throat. The room went deadly silent again and both Nygma and Crane gazed at the floor awkwardly. I briefly turned my head around and stared directly up at the portrait of Abigail. She looked so young and beautiful having her precious honey buzzard Claw perched on her arm, it often made me wonder how such a woman like her ever fell for a man like myself. Perhaps I was fortunate, or perhaps it was pure luck. But deep down I knew it was the cause of true love.

I still remembered the night Claw finally passed from this world; it was during the first year of our reform. Claw was an old bird by then, around 20 years of age to be precise. He had tremendous health issues and there was no more we could do for him. Poor Abigail was devastated to part with him; he was her companion, her friend. But she never had to fear of never seeing him again. I allowed him to be stuffed, usually I'm not into taxidermy, except in rare or extinct birds that is, but this was something which needed to be done. I still have him today, in my office on my bookshelf.

"I heard Ivy opened a flower shop," Jonathan finally spoke changing the subject yet again to make the situation less tense, but it didn't really work on me. I still felt rather miserable from the previous subject. I still couldn't believe it was five years on Friday since she died.

"What a surprise," Edward exclaimed throwing his hands in the air dramatically "that woman was always plant mad. I'm surprised she isn't still at Arkham along with Two-face, Killer Croc and Mr. Freeze."

"Moved to Metropolis apparently," Crane continued glancing down at his book not even paying attention to Edward "I guess after what happened to Quinn and Joker she had no reason to stay in Gotham. Everyone knew those two were closer than peas in a pod."

"Speaking of whom," Edward took a brief sip of his drink again "did they ever find the bodies?"

"Of who? Joker and Harley Quinn?"

"Yes."

"I don't think so," Jonathan continued "I guess only Batman really knows if they are dead or alive, and that man will soon be like us old dodderers."

"I'll tell you something Crane," Edward nudged him "the day Batman decides to give up the cape and cowl, is the day I'll stop wearing my old Riddler suit to the mall."

"That'll be a first," Jonathan muttered smirking only to get a death glare in return from Edward.

Both men suddenly stopped talking and glanced over in my direction. They had noticed I had gone silent and I could sense tension yet again. Perhaps it was a mistake to have friends over today.

"Listen Ozzy," Edward began rather slowly "you want us to leave you alone?"

"Sorry gentlemen," I apologised "I guess after our discussion about Abigail I don't feel up to socializing. It's is but a week till the anniversary of the worst day of my life and I guess I don't have time to be happy."

"We understand," Jonathan said. Both watched me cautiously as my head didn't rise from staring at the table for all of that time. I didn't like to disagree with my friends but I am afraid they are wrong. They don't understand how it feels to lose a loved one. Edward has a wife and son to provide for and Jonathan never got married or had any children, if anything he was married to his work. But I… I am just a widower with no loved ones to comfort me in my grieving. I am but a shell of the man I used to be. All of my life I was discarded from person to person, used by my peers for sick schemes and pranks or just told what to do by my own parents. Then when I finally settled down to spend the rest of my life with the woman I loved she was taken from me by some trigger happy robber. So what the people now say is true. The Penguin man who owns the Iceberg Lounge does have a tale of woe. He isn't as heartless as everyone used to believe.

I noticed Edward swiftly rise from his seat despite my gaze still fixed on the table. Jonathan soon followed suit and stood up not ten seconds after Edward. I remained silent and didn't bother to look up. I wasn't trying to be ignorant to my guests; I just didn't feel like speaking.

"We'll leave you in peace," Edward explained as both men headed towards the door. I didn't raise my head but briefly nodded to acknowledge their departure.

"Nice speaking with you Oswald," Jonathan spoke as both finally left the room. Outside the door both men began to talk, and although they didn't realize it, I heard their murmurs.

"Poor man," I heard one of them say "still heartbroken after all of these years."

"Yes, he is but a shadow of his former self after his wife died."

"I can only hope something really worth while happens to that man."

Finally the voices died away and all that was left was silence yet again. I finally lifted my head upwards and decided to arise from the table. I grabbed my umbrella which I now used as a walking stick. Oh doesn't age happen gracefully? And I managed to hobble into the other room again. I made my way over to the window and gazed out of the window into the new Gotham city. It was around the time of day when children of all ages would be coming out of school, and just by coincidence today was the start of the summer break for all of them. That meant street crime would be up over 15%. I just hoped Batman had enough strength left in the old coot to fight a couple of teenage hooligans.

But of course that didn't concern me. I lost all interest in crime related incidents and the Batman a long time ago. Not only did I pay over the years for my crimes, but I watched many others whom I got acquainted with, through crime, pay the consequences for their actions also. In more extreme ways than mine too. For example, many years ago, in my final years as the Penguin, I witnessed Arnold Wesker, also known as the Ventriloquist get shot and killed when his little puppet Scarface messed with the wrong organization. I wasn't there at the time, but I saw things I wished, and still wish, I had never seen. And another known person to pay for all the misery he caused was none other than Rupert Thorne himself, who finally got gunned down by Two-Face several years ago, the last time he escaped from Arkham. Served him right if you asked me. I always hated Thorne, and so did Abigail. Oh dear... I mentioned her again didn't I?

I finally dragged myself away from the window and hobbled over to my desk again. I sat and placed my flipper-like hand on my forehead and rubbed it gently. It was a sign I was getting old and crippled. Oh those truthful but sorrowful words I used to describe myself. Old, crippled and alone. Yes... alone. I guess I am still paying for my own crimes. And while death wasn't my fate like so many other criminals, being unable to share my sorrow and grief with anyone was. Is this to be my never ending punishment? Wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. Fate was never good to me in the first place. Why should things suddenly change for the better now?

Grabbing a pen with one hand and a single sheet of paper with another, I gazed down at the piece of paperwork before me. It was concerning the catering staff's hygiene report, which I had already overlooked not but two days ago. Showed how unorganized and slow I was when it came to filling out forms. That's why I always left this to Abigail when she was alive. She was always more organized than I was. Gripping the pen tightly I felt the urge to fill in my signature, but something was preventing my pen from touching the paper. It was me. I knew I was in no mood to do this today of all days. Especially after what was just said with Nygma and Crane in the room.

I eventually gave into my own will and dropped the pen out of my hand. I then pulled my chair back slightly and opened the drawer of the desk I was sitting at and pulled out something before placing it shut again. It was a picture frame. I gazed at it sorrowfully with a small sad smile on my features as my shaky hands pulled it up to rest on the desk. I simply sat there for an endless amount of time staring longingly at the picture frame. It brought back so many memories of my past. It was a picture of me and Abigail on our wedding day. A happy time! Around a year after our reform to be exact. When she no longer had the mental or physical scars of being the Nightingale. The time after she had undergone treatment and therapy along with out reforming sessions. The time when she finally went back to being the same woman I fell in love with.

"Five years my love," I whispered sadly not taking my eyes off of the picture for a second "not a day goes by that I don't think about you. I just wish you were still here to grow old with me."

As a single flipper-like hand caressed the frame gently, my attentions were once again taken from my own thoughts and brought back to reality. A swift knock at the door alerted my head as it shot up from staring at the photograph, which I simply placed back on the table and clasped my hands together expectantly. The person at the door was none other than Isabel again, this time more alerted and, so it seemed to me at least, rather agitated.

"Yes what is it Isabel?" I asked with a small unnoticeable frown on my face. I always hated it when people interrupted my train of thought. And if happened too often. But that was because I tried to be alone while running my own business, which of course is a silly thing to do when you are a restaurateur.

"Sir," she began clearing her throat before continuing "one of your health inspector's has come for a up-to-date sixth monthly inspection, and to collect the documents you were meant to sign over two days ago."

"Damn," I cursed aloud looking down at the unfilled forms on my desk. I then gazed back at Isabel who was awaiting my instructions rather too eagerly. "Tell him I will be down in five minutes after I finish off filling them in."

"Yes sir," she said then departed hurryingly forgetting to shut the door. I then grabbed my pen and began filling the forms in as fast as I was able. Guess this taught me to not put filling my documents off for several days. But I did have a valid reason to do this. It was after all, the five year anniversary of my wife's murder on Friday. And it was Monday already. I would be like this all week. Distant, untalkative, anti-social. Well... more so than usual anyway. I would want to be alone mainly this week just to get over my sorrow and grieving in my own way. What happened with Crane and Nygma, two of my closest friends, would be the way I would be with everyone else this week. And most people would understand, but there would be the occasional person who had no emotions to speak of who would think of me as a rude gentleman. But this was a week I hardly cared. I had more occupational thoughts on my mind than to care about ignorant, self-centred, higher class people.

After placing my final signature down on the last section of the document concerning the club being free of rats and pesticides, I arose from my seat and placed my hand on the table to gain balance so I didn't fall over. Grabbing my umbrella I waddled over to the door with the documents in hand and was about to head out to see this health inspector. I wasn't in the mood for this, not today. But I had no choice. If I wanted to keep my business open, the owner of the restaurant would have to make an appearance every now and then. This was something I couldn't leave up to Jason, sadly.

Before departing off down the hallway I turned my gaze one last time into the room and my eyes fell on that picture on my desk. I smiled sadly as the picture gazed back at me with a flashing and beautiful smile. A sudden sense of longing jumped back on me again. Oh how I wanted, more than anything else in this world, to go back to that day. Back when times were simple and full of love. Now my day's were empty and full of sorrow and loss. And so they will be till all of my suffering comes to a big halt and my remaining day's end. But until that day comes... Oswald Cobblepot will be the bird who lost everything and gained nothing back.

"You coming sir?" A voice from down the hallway called me softly. I turned my head away from the inside of my office and nodded gently as I placed a final glance at the picture on the desk before slowly making my way down to conduct business with this health inspector. Best get this out of the way with and then go back to my own little world. For that was the only place I could escape the pain and suffering grips of reality. The only place... that kept me sane.

Authors note: Now I know what you're thinking and please, oh please don't kill me! Abigail's death is crucial for the events of this story! It did pain me to kill her off. But she WILL be a frequent character later on! And the next chapter will feature some new characters along with our middle aged Bruce Wayne himself. The story itself should develop shortly and a lot of flashbacks will happen! In the meantime though, please tell me what you think in a review! I really appreciate feedback! Thank you all for being so patient and I'll update soon! This time I promise!


	2. Chapter 2: A little lost Raven

Chapter 2: A little lost Raven

Authors note: Thank you all for the pleasant reviews! I am glad people are still open to the sequel even though I posted the first story last year. Anyway this chapter introduces one of the more important characters in the story and of course lets you all know what is going on with our favourite vigilante/billionaire 20 years on from the previous story. I also may not be able to update as frequently as I would like to because I have a busy life right now and I have so much to do! But I won't leave this story! So please bare with me. Anyway enough of my rambling. Enjoy this chapter!

"NO! STOP! NOOOOO!"

His voice echoed in the darkness of the caves as he shrieked in hysteria. Bats squeaked and flew out of the cave in a mad panic, obviously disturbed by the cries and yells coming from the mysterious cave dweller. The figure, sat down at a large computer screen, shot up gasping and panting in a panic after calling out.

"That dream," he said placing his masked face into his gloved hands, obviously frustrated with his dramatic outburst. "Why is always that same dream?!"

The figure, none other than the Batman, had obviously stayed up too late and fell asleep at the computer screen in the Batcave. Working late was a norm for the Batman. And this wasn't the first time he had fell asleep at his computer, still in his vigilante gear. Nor would it be his last. That would be until the day the Batman would be forced to give up the cape and cowl for good anyways.

Batman's real alias, the billionaire bachelor Bruce Wayne, was, like all of his old Rogues, ageing. Ageing, not so gracefully. Years of crime fighting had drained him, physically and mentally. He was tired most of the time, and struggled to do half of the stuff he used to do back in his younger days. But it never stopped him from continuing. Sure he had plenty of scars and old wounds to deal with, and he wasn't getting any younger. But while he was still standing, Bruce Wayne would never give up his role as the Batman until he was no longer capable of doing so without putting himself or others at serious risk.

But his years of being the Batman not only had its physical scarring, but also its mental ones too. He had done some pretty bad things as the Batman that he had come to regret over the years. Not only did his greatest failures of helping to create the Joker and Two-Face happen, but he also did things he thought to be right at the time that still effected him now. Some people even said that he had abused his power as a iconic symbol of freedom and heroism by breaking the law himself, bringing himself down to the level of those he captured. "Represent justice? Pfft! He is just a big muscle guy in a suit who has no concept of the word 'justice'. Half of these criminals he has brought to_ 'justice'_ over the years, are all of his making in the first place. Vigilantes are not, I repeat, NOT good role models for this city to look up to, especially masked freaks like this Batman." A good quote from Commissioner Bennett's acceptance speech when he took over the position of the now retired James Gordon two years ago. Bruce Wayne had of course attended this public event and merely shook off those words like dust on his cape. He had experienced words like this come out of the mouths of many time and time again over the years. Especially from a certain Detective Harvey Bullock who now had the role of Chief in the force, he himself was not far from retiring also. How time flies.

But these days Bruce Wayne kept a low profile. He rarely attended public events, and if he did, they were obviously very important to him. These days, since the tragic yet sudden death of his trusty butler Alfred seven years ago, he kept to himself having very few visitors, sitting for hours on end just thinking or spending the majority of his time fighting crime. With half of his old foes now reformed, missing or dead you would think the Batman wouldn't have as much crime to fight... but there you couldn't be more wrong. Gotham is, and always will be, riddled with crime. And if it doesn't have freaks like the Joker, Scarecrow, Penguin, Mad Hatter or any of the others roaming the streets, it'll always have the common criminals. These days Batman had trouble with the pesky younger kids who tried to get lucky by "acing the Batman" as they called it. Batman may be old now, but he was definitely not THAT outdated to back down to a bunch of young wannabe hooligans.

Onto the subject of his sidekicks. People actually wondered where the legendary Batgirl and Robin had gone off to these days. Let's just say they both grew tired of Batman's self-centred arrogant ways. After an incident around fourteen years ago involving a breakout of some sort at Stonegate Penitentiary, something went wrong for the Batman that night. Something that changed his behaviour and the way he approached people. He no longer felt he could confide in those he cared for. And with this, he slowly pushed them out of the way. Robin was the first to quit. Dick Grayson finally grew tired of Bruce Wayne's antics and moved cities changing his vigilante name to Nightwing. And only months later after Dick, Barbara Gordon also gave up her role as Batgirl. But unlike Dick, she had more personal reasons to give up her vigilante status. She fell in love. With a respectable lawyer who one day aimed to be the new District Attorney. And of course this made her father James Gordon greatly approve of the couple. He couldn't be more happy for his daughter. But unlike Dick, Barbara still kept in touch with Bruce from time to time. She now worked in the data records sector of the Gotham Police Headquarters and occasionally helped Batman whenever he needed information that was never available on his computer. So now Batman worked solo. And soon, there would be no more vigilantes in Gotham city. He often wondered what would happen to the city when he would be forced to give into his age and hang the cape and cowl for good. Would the city go into chaos? Or would it thrive without the existence of Batman? Those kinds of questions were those that kept him awake at night. When he wasn't fighting crime of course.

But there was something Bruce Wayne had taken a shine to over the past fourteen years, even though he pushed those close to him away. He had his company bail out a small orphanage that was due to be knocked down and be replaced with a shopping mall, courtesy of good old Roland Daggett. But Wayne Enterprises was able to buy off his little operation and save the orphanage from being knocked down and the orphans left homeless. And with this Bruce Wayne took great pride in restoring the orphanage to its full glory, changing its name to the 'Sunny-Side orphanage'. Soon after it was all renovated, Wayne was thanked a lot by the children and made to feel very welcome by them and the head of the orphanage Miss Julia Weathers. And over the years he visited them more and more growing a deep bond with them all. The children all looked up to and respected Bruce Wayne. He was after all, the man who had given them everything.

Bruce loved all of the children at the orphanage. They weren't like most kids these days. They all were so polite and well mannered. Everything most children didn't get taught by parents these days. They didn't get everything they wanted, yet they were still grateful for what they were given. And Wayne tried his best to put a smile on each of their faces by bringing them a gift every now and then to cheer them up. And it worked every time. They all welcomed "Mr. Wayne" as they all called him, with open arms and made the ageing bachelor feel a slight warming in his heart. After Barbara and Dick had left him, Bruce felt the only place he could get any compassion and friendship from was the same place full of the same kinds of kids he was once like. And while he wasn't the one to pick favourites, there was one special child in that orphanage that Bruce felt closer to than the others. But there was more to that friendship that met the eye.

Bruce had a feeling the Batman had bitten off a bit more than he could have chewed last night. He couldn't remember much, but he remembered fighting a bunch of young thugs who tried to mug an old lady down Crime Alley. Wasn't fun for him or the old lady. She was hospitalized and the thugs managed to injure him. But he caught them. Eventually.

"Urgh," Bruce groaned as he rubbed his eyes and his temple with a single hand as he took off his cowl. He then gazed up as it computer and spoke in his Batman tone of voice. "Computer, search for public attendances that Bruce Wayne needs to make today."

"Searching..." his computer responded taking a few moments before speaking again "one found! Bruce Wayne has a booked visit at the Sunny-Side orphanage at 11am precisely."

"Computer, what is the time now?"

"Time... being at 10:30am precisely."

"Damn," Bruce muttered quickly jumping out of his chair. "Better get ready and go then!"

And so he did. He turned off his computer screen and shut down the cave after getting out of his costume. After shutting down his equipment, he went into his lift to get back up the ground floor of Wayne manor to quickly gather his things and head out to the orphanage. Today he was bringing them a little something. He had even gone to the trouble to pick something out for each child. He wasn't doing it out of charity, rather out of compassion and caring. He understood them. Even at his age, being an orphan hurt. It affected his life in so many ways after his parents were shot and killed. And while not all of the children at the orphanage had parents that were dead, they were still unwanted or taken from them to be re-homed. So Bruce Wayne visited the orphanage to find some kind of escape. To be with the same kind of people who were a lot like he was, but less fortunate. So he felt it was time to give something back to the new generation of Gotham City. The ones who had a future.

After getting ready and placing all of the items he had for the children in several plastic bags, he casually adjusted his tie and picked up the bags before walking to collect one of his many cars. He chose one that wasn't as flashy as his limousine because he didn't wish to be instantly noticed by any of the general public, or the press in particular. He wasn't in the mood to be the latest mug shot in the daily papers. He tried to avoid the press these days. Well personally anyway. His company still had a regular place in the news with the latest inventions or profits etc. But the press were always eager to find out what Bruce Wayne was really up to behind closed doors. And he wasn't too eager to have the press barging into affairs that did not concern them. But he knew he wasn't the only one to be pestered by annoying reporters. There was the likes of Oswald Cobblepot, who had opened his own nightclub for the high society rich oafs who shunned him for all of his years as the Penguin, to drink and have a good time. But since the death of his wife, Cobblepot went into hiding and this gave the press an invitation to pry further. Similar things were happening with Wayne. But the death of Alfred did not make him go into hiding... it just added to the hundreds of other reasons of being the Batman.

Whilst driving through the city, Wayne felt rather solemn. He decided to brighten his spirits, for the sake of the children if anyone else, by turning on the radio. He knew his mood would instantly brighten up once he got to the orphanage. How could he not be happy around them? They made him feel so welcome! And the head of the orphanage Miss Weathers would obviously ask him to stay for lunch, as she always did, and today Bruce would be more than willing to accept that offer! Considering he hadn't eaten anything all day.

"Good morning Gotham!" the man on the radio said a little too cheerfully "today we have some bright and sunny tunes to match this awesome summer weather for ya'll! Stay tuned and get ready to get funky folks!"

Bruce instantly groaned when the radio played the first song. "Be my Joker baby." It sent shivers down his spine, reminding him too well of the Joker and Harley Quinn. He recalled this one time when Harley actually sang that song while Joker was holding hostages on a live talk show. Not a good time, and most definitely not a good song. And it was cheerful. But TOO cheerful for Bruce Wayne to listen to, so he switched stations pretty much straight away to avoid any more bad memories to spring in his mind. That dream he had last night brought back enough already. He had that same dream a lot lately. Perhaps it was telling him something. But he had been haunted by dreams like this before, and they would often go away. So Bruce would shake it off. The memory was too painful and secret to bring up anyway.

As he parked his car outside the orphanage on the road, he already noticed a few curious faces pop through the window not far from the front door. He gave them a wave as he got out of his car and went to open the boot to collect the bags with all the various gifts inside them. Lifting them out of the car was surprisingly a challenge for him. There were so many! He felt like a rich teenage girl who had been given daddy's credit card to go on a mad shopping spree. But he was able to lift heavier object than this! Why on earth did he find it a challenge to lift a bunch of bags out of a car? The answer... age.

As he made his way up the steps to knock the front door of the orphanage he heard excited voices inside shout "Mr. Wayne is here!" That alone brought a smile to his face. He could tell how eager they were to see him, but yet again, they never had any other visitors other than the potential adopters. So of course they'd be excited to have someone visit them from time to time. Bruce didn't even need to knock on the door. He heard voices on the inside get closer and closer to the door before it opened to reveal who was speaking.

"Jimmy, move out of the way please! I need to let Mr. Wayne in," a female voice called from the inside. She sounded frustrated and rather frantic, yet kept a cheery tone about her. And Bruce instantly knew who it was. "Mr. Wayne!" The woman spoke as she opened the door. There stood a woman in her late 30s to early 40s with her brunette hair in a messy bun and a smart-casual outfit on. She grinned at Wayne and he returned the gesture. "How lovely to see you again!"

"Nice to see you too Julia," Bruce winked causing her to roll her eyes and shake her head and him.

"I told you not to call me by my first name Bruce... especially in front of the children," she whispered trying not to smirk at his innocent pout.

"Look who's talking," He smirked "I was only joking with you."

"I know," she began then glancing down at the possessions he was carrying. Hey eyes instantly widened "oh my! Are those all for the children?"

"Yep," Bruce gazed down briefly before returning his eyes to Miss Weathers "may I come in then? These bags are awfully heavy and I fear that my arms will drop off if I hold onto them any longer."

"Oh! Sorry! Of course!" She jumped back allowing him to enter. Bruce smiled gratefully as he squeezed through the doorway with all of the bags and then dropped them, not literally, to the floor.

"Thanks." He said as he placed the bags down. His attentions suddenly went all over the place as a million kids all jumped out at once to him, each saying hello and greeting him.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne," they all said at different times. Bruce lost count of all the times he had said hello and just simply got down to business of emptying the bags and giving each child their chosen gift. He started with young Jimmy who was a recent addition to the orphanage. At the age of seven, his parents had died in a car crash and he had no other relatives or carers to look after him, so the poor kid ended up at Sunny-Side. Bruce always looked to cheer this poor boy up. The last time he had spoken to him, the boy wanted a new ball to play with his friends at school. So Bruce went out and got him that special ball. And the look on his face when he received it gave Bruce a warm feeling inside.

The other children, ranging between the ages of five to twelve years old all collected their gifts, thanked Mr. Wayne and then went into their 'living room' to show off their gifts to one another. Once the final gift was given to the last child, a young girl with glasses called Catherine, Bruce tried, but failed to get up off of the floor.

"Here Mr. Wayne," Miss Weathers came over and offered a hand to the man who was stuck on one knee trying to balance on the wall to get up "let me help you there."

"Thanks Miss Weathers," he grunted as she grabbed his arm to lift him up "damn leg went stiff again."

"I can see that," she noted then going a bit serious with her tone. "Thank you for all of this."

"It's alright," Bruce began smiling as both adults gazed into the room full of cheerful children all holding their new gifts.

"Seriously," Miss Weathers continued "they really appreciate you taking your time out of your busy schedule to visit them. And as much as they like it, you don't need to go out of your way to buy them gifts! They are so grateful for all that you have done for them over the years. And so am I. You bring these kids hope in a city that doesn't care. And I guess, I'll just be the one to say a big thank you on behalf of us all."

"No need to thank me Julia," Bruce smiled "these kids are really special. And I feel that I owe this generation something more than just donating a few million to the odd charity and conducting business deals to build a new shopping mall. I understand their pain, and I want to help them in any way I can. I was once in their shoes too. The only exception is, I had someone there for me. These kids have no one."

"Well they have you," Julia replied still fixing her gaze on the children as she and Wayne stood in the doorway "they look up to you so much! And you have proven to be a great man for them to aspire to. It's because of you that we are still here today after all."

Bruce would have replied to her if it wasn't for a loud bang from upstairs. Both Julia and Bruce were startled when they heard a thump and a yell from the staircase. Seconds later a person appeared at the top of the stairs.

"OUCH!" cried a voice. Both adults poked their heads around the banister to see a teenage girl standing at the top of the staircase rubbing her head as she made her way down to them. "Stupid door..." she muttered caressing her blonde haired scalp.

"Rebecca," Julia shook her head and placed a hand on her hip "weren't you supposed to come down five minutes ago? When I told you to!"

"I was busy!" She replied casually. Miss Weathers rolled her eyes and frowned slightly at this girl. She was the eldest orphan in the orphanage, well her roommate came a close second. At the age of fourteen, close to fifteen, she was very laid back. Miss Weathers often grew angry with her attitude as she was meant to be the one that the younger orphans looked up to. But this girl was very anti-social and unapproachable. Unlike her roommate...

"So, Mr. Wayne..." Rebecca said slyly "you gots' the goods?"

Bruce chuckled at her tone "Rebecca, you make it sound like a drug deal when you say it like that." He then placed a hand inside his black jacket and got out a rather large yellow folder "yes I did manage to get it. Took a lot of strings to pull to get it all. So this project had better be worth it."

"Thanks!" She grinned as he handed her the folder. She instantly started looking through its contents, much to Julia's confusion.

"What project?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Rebecca started still keeping her attentions on the pieces of paper inside the folder "our school set us to do a project on anything we chose to present to the class when we get back from the summer vacation. And I chose to do the old Gotham Rogues gallery! You know... Joker and all of them."

"Why on earth would you want to do such a disgusting topic?" Julia asked with a large hint of distaste in her voice "those criminals were no laughing matter! Especially the Joker! This whole city has suffered at the wrath of those crazy psychotic criminals. If it wasn't for the Batman we'd probably not be here today!"

"Well I find them interesting!" She exclaimed then grinning like a maniac at the file "geez! You've got every single known news paper clipping of every single Rogue in here, Mr. Wayne! The Joker, Harley Quinn, Two-Face, Riddler, Penguin, Poison Ivy, Killer Croc... they're all here!"

"Took me ages to find them," Bruce stated crossing his arms expectantly "do I get a thank you?"

"Yes!" She squeaked "Thank you very much Mr. Wayne! I'll give them you back once this project is over with. Raven is sooooo gonna flip when she sees this!"

"Yes, in annoyance if you don't shut up about it," Julia placed a hand on her forehead caressing it gently. Bruce instantly looked around at the mention of the name Raven and his eyes shifted into a rather lost gaze.

"Speaking of whom... where is she?"

"Oh!" Miss Weathers said excitedly pushing poor Rebecca to the side. Not that the girl minded of course, she was too busy routing through the folder Bruce had given her to care. "I forgot to tell you! Bruce, we may have found them!"

"Found who?" Bruce's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Potential adopters!" Julia exclaimed "Raven may be getting adopted today! She's in the interview with them right now. I can't wait for you to meet them Bruce! They're in their late 30's and want a teenager to raise as their own. They're very nice and are good people! I think they are perfect for such a quiet girl like Raven."

"I'll have to meet them to see that," Bruce muttered as Miss Weathers dragged him down the corridor excitedly towards the interview room. His head turned around to see Rebecca roll her eyes and shake her head at Miss Weathers outbursts before departing back upstairs into her room. Raven was her roommate. The second eldest in the orphanage. And she was the complete opposite to Rebecca. She was a quiet, shy and timid girl who wasn't as antisocial or mouthy as Rebecca. Nor did she have her weird tastes in hobbies. Bruce knew that Rebecca had a thing for the Batman and his old criminals, and this disturbed Miss Weathers the most. The girl had a poster of the Joker in her room and pictures of several other villains like the Penguin, Two-Face, Catwoman and Harley Quinn displayed from various old magazines and newspapers. But Raven was completely different, and in a good way too. She had a thing for the arts, musical and other. But was considered weird because of it. It wasn't normal for a teenager these days to be into classical art or jazz music. But that was Raven for you. She and Bruce had developed a bond over the years, he supported her in more ways than he ever did with the other kids. But he had a good reason to.

Bruce had suspected that this couple weren't all what they seemed when he saw the look on Rebecca's face. She didn't seem too thrilled with what Miss Weathers was saying about the potential 'parents' in the interview room with her roommate. Did this mean that they weren't the right ones? Bruce really cared for Raven and had a deep concern that she would be adopted by the wrong people. Heck, he would have adopted her himself years ago if it wasn't for his work and another issue he faced with regarding adopting her. So he kept a watchful eye on the potential people who wanted to adopt her. And over the years the couples became less and less frequent. He and Miss Weathers had grown concerned that poor Raven would never get adopted. So he could understand why Julia was excited about all of this. Raven's shyness and taste for the not-so-normal things put a lot of people off of wanting to adopt her. And Bruce knew this was having a bad effect on the poor girl.

Julia continued to boast about how great the potential adopters were until they got to the corridor where the interview room was situated. Then she suddenly stopped when the sounds of shouting came from within. Both Bruce and Julia briefly looked at each other in shock before Bruce rushed over to the door ready to open it. A sudden urge of anger filled him. It sounded like the couple were shouting at her. That was something that no interview should have! Not to mention he felt his protective side come around. But before he could open the door, it swung open and the two adults stormed out in a fit of rage.

"W-what happened, Mr and Mrs Peterson?!" Julia gasped in shock as the two stormed past her and Wayne. The man turned around and glared at Miss Weathers as he spoke in a rather arrogant tone.

"You'd better give that girl a serious attitude change if you ever wish to see her adopted any time soon Miss Weathers! That girl is DEFINATELY not right for us! Now if you'll excuse us, we are leaving!"

The man shoved past Bruce who tried, but failed to halt him and ask what his problem was. Bruce Wayne watched the couple storm out of the orphanage and Miss Weathers quickly ran after them asking what was wrong and what had happened. She also began apologising to the couple as they departed down the corridor and their footsteps slowly faded away. Bruce quickly turned around to see a small black haired teenage girl standing at the doorway of the interview room, in tears and in shock. Bruce went to speak but she ran off in a state of shame and anguish before he could open his mouth. His eyes followed her until she too was out of sight. Bruce let out a large sad sigh and shook his head glumly. Poor Raven. This always happened to her. He wanted to comfort her, but he knew from experience that she would want time alone to think things over and let all of her emotions out. She was a very independent girl who never relied upon anyone to help her. But sometimes she shut people out on purpose... just to be alone. Bruce knew that all too well. He was the same.

Moments later Miss Weathers returned with a hopeless expression on her face. She didn't say anything, but Bruce got the message. It didn't go down well. And now the poor girl would be an emotional wreck for the whole day.

...

About an hour later Bruce felt he needed to confront the poor unfortunate girl who ran out of the interview room obviously crying her eyes out. He knew that she would now be in a calmer mood now she had time to herself, and he wanted to approach her to make her feel better and give her more positive things to think about. He knew now wasn't the best time to give her that gift he got her. So he would leave that for another time. Now he was just going to talk to her and ask her what happened in there that caused such nasty people to flip out on her like that. Miss Weathers had tried to convince Raven to come down for lunch but the girl refused, politely of course. Raven was a respectable girl, and it made Bruce rather confused and angry when that man told them to change her 'attitude'. What was there to adjust? She was the quietest girl in the orphanage who just wanted to be alone most of the time. Out of all the interviews Raven had over the years, this one seemed like the worst. Simply because the couple involved somehow got into a dispute and yelled at the girl for no reason at all. Well, Bruce would find that out now anyway...

Bruce knew where she was. She always went up to a particular spot when something was troubling her. And it was not her room. Well she could never be alone in her room with the likes of her roommate Rebecca always being in there. No there was another place where Raven went to be alone. The roof.

Cautiously opening the roof door Bruce peeked his head around the corner scouting the area for any sign of the fourteen year old. Holding a plate with a sandwich on it Bruce stepped from the doorway and shut it as quietly as possible in order not to disturb her, or alert anyone downstairs of his whereabouts.

"Raven? You up here?" He called out receiving no reply. But years of training to look out for specific things came in hand when he saw a brief flash of black behind a large crate. He knew it was her instantly. Her long, black, glossy hair was not hard to miss. As he made his way over to her he cleared his throat to get her attention. And at that point she looked up, her brown eyes widening slightly.

"Mr. Wayne?" She managed to say, not even adjusting out of her curled up position. She then briefly looked away as Bruce sat down next to her, letting out small grunt of exertion due to his age.

"Hey kid," Bruce smiled as he finally managed to sit beside the young girl. He then pushed the sandwich gently in her direction explaining as he did so. "We had lunch downstairs, so I brought you a little something."

"No thank you sir," she said turning it away as politely as possible "I'm not hungry."

"Is it that bad, uh?" Bruce rubbed his neck as he placed the sandwich on the crate they were both leaning on. Raven continued to look away without saying a word watching as some birds on the opposite building were fighting over a piece of bread they had found on the floor. He soon broke the silence by asking her that all important question that he needed answering. "What happened earlier, Raven?"

"I had a feeling you would ask that," Raven noted as her face fell to the floor awkwardly. "The interview started like any ordinary interview. 'hello', 'how are you?' 'What is your favourite band?' Then I guess they both got very weird by asking me personal questions I didn't feel like answering."

"Like what?" Bruce asked eyebrows arching cautiously.

"I don't know, they asked me how I became an orphan and if I knew what happened to my parents. Then I told them I didn't feel comfortable answering their questions. Next thing you know... they're shouting at me saying how I shouldn't speak to them in _'that attitude'_ and then they stormed out." She explained with a hint of hurt in her voice "I didn't do anything to upset them Mr. Wayne! I just haven't ever been asked about my parents before in an interview..."

"Actually," Bruce began "the potential adopters are not allowed to ask questions like that. It states that on the contract they sign before they get to the interview stage. I'll have a word with Miss Weathers about that and we'll make sure that it never happens again."

"It doesn't matter anyway." Raven stood up and walked over to the edge of the building. She took in a deep breath of air as she leant her arms on the wall on top of the roof that prevented anyone from falling. "No one wants to adopt me."

"Don't say that Raven!" Bruce told her as he also stood and followed her. "You'll find someone."

"I don't think you understand Mr. Wayne," Raven began "do you even know how hard it is for a teenager to get adopted? I've already accepted the fact that I won't get adopted, and that I'll have to stay here until I am eighteen."

"If you think like that you won't get adopted," Bruce said as they both gazed out into the distance of all the buildings in this certain part of the city.

He noticed her gaze fell upon some people walking by on the city streets below, his eyes followed hers until they landed on a man with his young son. The boy had tripped and fell on the floor and was crying softly while his father comforted him. After watching the pair embrace Bruce noticed a small, yet rather sad, smile appear on young Raven's face. Her brown eyes filled with a sense of longing as she continued to stare at the street below, even after the man and his son had gone.

"I've always wondered what it is like, to share a long warm embrace from a parent as a child," Raven began, her voice distant along with her gaze "what must that feel like?"

Bruce turned away, feeling a slight sense of guilt and misery fall upon him. He was thinking about his parents again, and all the times he shared with them before they were killed. He remembered all of the loving moments and embraces he had shared with them. And then reality hit him again. He knew why Raven was questioning about how an embrace with a parent must feel like. Because he knew that she had never experienced it! And it broke his heart to hear such words come out of her mouth. Sure, when she was younger she often hugged him when she needed comfort or was thanking him for something. But it wasn't the same as a loving hug from a mother or father. And a new twinge of guilt came about him as he knew something else was also on his mind...

"I wish I could tell you..." Bruce replied, his voice now distant too.

"It must feel..." Raven began her face now looking up at the sky in a cheery sense as she placed her hands together eagerly "like the BEST feeling ever!" Her face swiftly fell again and she then returned her gaze to the floor. "But... my parents never gave me the opportunity to share that one embrace. Shows how much they cared for me, huh?"

Bruce turned his head to now face her. His eyes now rather narrowed and a small frown appeared on his ageing features. "What makes you say that Raven?"

"Oh come now Mr. Wayne," Raven began, her face now looking up at his "we all know they didn't want me. I mean, why else would I be here?"

Bruce let out a deep sigh and inhaled again before replying. "Look, Raven... There's something I need to tell you."

"Yes?" Raven's eyes gave him an expectant stare as his just shook his head to himself while standing there for a very long pause. After a while she gave him a confused expression, not even knowing what he was doing or what he was going to say. She had the feeling he wanted to tell her something very important but didn't know where to start or how to get the words out. But eventually he just gave in and placed a sturdy hand on her shoulder before finally responding.

"What if..." he began pausing again, but this time not as long "your parents did love you? But something unfortunate happened that forced them to give you up. I mean I wouldn't know as I wasn't there, but you can't go around assuming that your parents didn't care. In this city there are a lot of unfortunate people who are forced to give up certain things to survive, even if it is something very important to them that they didn't want to let go. Anything could have happened to your parents and you when you were a baby. And even though Miss Weathers found you on the doorstep, nothing is there to suggest anything about your parents not caring about you. So don't you ever say that about them Raven. Not unless you actually know one hundred percent by them yourself."

"So you're suggesting," Raven looked away in deep thought for a moment "that my parents did love me?"

Bruce paused for a moment wondering what he was saying "um... yes."

"Then if they wanted me then... they would want me now, right?" Her voice suddenly chirped rather excitedly. Bruce's eyes widened slightly in shock at her sudden change of tone. He also felt like smacking himself for what he had just said. He didn't wish to bring up the past... especially hers. There was a lot to her past that he knew about and did not wish to think about. But now she was starting to question it. And it was all his fault for not keeping his big mouth shut.

"Whoa, Raven! I didn't say that."

"No, but it could be true!" Raven grinned "don't you see Mr. Wayne? Perhaps this is the answer to all of my problems! I don't need to find adoptive parents to take me in; what I really need is my real parents! For all of my years here I haven't felt like I belong here, and now I know why! If my parents are still alive and well I may be able to locate them. And then we can be a family again!"

"Raven!" Bruce raised his voice slightly trying to calm her down and get her to reconsider "don't be so hasty! You know nothing about them, why they gave you up, or even who they are! There is no way of you even knowing where to locate them."

"Wrong," Raven began determinedly "I would be able to find them if I put an ad in the paper. I mean there must be people out there who know of a missing child called Raven right? I could put that advertisement in the paper and people will come searching for me. And then I can have a DNA test to prove if they really are my parents!"

"Raven," Bruce placed a hand on her shoulder again, this time lightly as his voice was layered with a hint of guilt "as much as your idea sounds plausible, may I ask you to just think about it for a while? I mean, there are so many things to consider here and things need to be given time to settle into your brain. Are you even sure you want to find out who your parents are? There may be something bad about them that they tried to keep away from you."

"That wouldn't change anything," Raven replied, her voice now calmer. She took a deep breath and then gazed up at Bruce with a hint of sorrow in her tone and expressions as she continued. "Listen Mr. Wayne... I have actually considered it for a very long time. But I never thought my parents really cared for me. I have never felt like I belong at the orphanage with the other orphans. I always feel like I belong somewhere else. I have tried my best to fit in, but I can't seem to adjust. Something inside of me just doesn't feel right. I have never really wanted to be adopted by total strangers who just want to own me for a few years, before I leave them for bigger things. What I have always wanted was to be with my real parents. Or at least someone who cares enough to consider how I feel. You have been like a father to me ever since I can remember Mr. Wayne, and I thank you for that. But I guess what I am trying to say is... I need to know who I am. Where I came from. Why my parents gave me up the way they did. And I understand if you and Miss Weathers aren't too keen on the idea, but I have to know Mr. Wayne. I have to know!"

"Look," Bruce rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly after hearing what she had said. He wasn't sure how to respond to it. But he wanted what was best for her, and what she wanted out of life. She had never looked so determined in all her life. And he could understand why she wanted to do it. He was just afraid of certain consequences of what she wanted to find out. "I understand why you wish to do it. But I would seriously think about it and ask yourself if it is what you seriously want to do. You must not expect that your parents will take you back with open arms. There may be problems or issues that may arise from this. And you cannot make any assumptions about your parents. But I'm sure you are aware of all the risks you might be willing to take to find them."

"Yes, I understand Mr. Wayne," Raven smiled reassuringly placing a hand on his arm that was rest on her tiny shoulder. "But I need to know. And I will be careful with it all. I just need you and Miss Weathers on my side."

"You know we'll always support you with whatever you do," Bruce explained "but think long and hard about this Raven. Make sure it is what you want. And if it is... well... me and Miss Weathers will help you in any ways we can."

"Thank you Mr. Wayne," Raven smiled and grabbed him into a surprising hug. "You're always there for me aren't you?" She then let go moments later and decided to head back inside to think things over just as Bruce had suggested she did. Bruce remained outside, standing and thinking over what he had just done. He had just left her an invitation to pry into something which he had a few problems with. He was so unsure on how to deal with it. He too had so many questions he needed answering. But his questions were only to be asked to himself and not to everyone else, unlike Raven's questions of course.

Bruce watched her go. He was actually stunned when she hugged him. He never took affection very well. Over the years he had always received affection from people and always seemed to push it away. Hence why he never married. Also the fact of being Batman meant that half of his life was consumed by his costumed persona instead of 'pretending' to be that carefree billionaire bachelor. But her hugging him was not what plagued his mind. Instead it was their previous conversation.

He knew things that she didn't, and he wasn't keen on bringing up past events that she was now starting to question. But he understood why. If he were an orphan like her (which in some ways he was), he too would wish to know his true heritage. But there was still a bad feeling he had nagging at the back of his dark mind. Should the past be dug up? Or should it be left for dead along with the hurt and pain? Now that was a question he would have asked the Riddler, if he hadn't reformed along with half of the other previous Gotham Rogues. But he had a dark secret about this particular girl that he wasn't keen to reveal. He feared the consequences and the reactions if he had told people of what he had done all of those years ago. As much as he wanted to get it off of his chest, he didn't know how to start it. It wasn't that he didn't trust Raven. She was a very mature girl for her age. But he didn't trust himself. Nor did he trust the other people involved in this particular affair. And he feared that she would never forgive him or Miss Weathers if she found out the truth.

"In more ways than you know," Bruce whispered as Raven shut the door to head back down to the other children. He remained and stood watching over the city as if he were in his cape and cowl at this very moment. But he wasn't of course. But both Bruce Wayne and Batman had something to do with something that happened many years ago. The same something that was plaguing his dreams at night and was now coming back to haunt him and his thoughts in general. And it all had something to do with the teenage girl he had just spoken to. Something which he only kept to himself. Something, that changed his whole look on being the Batman and changed his life for good. And he feared it. He feared the truth more than anything. And he feared it would have to come out... actually he was counting on the fact that it would have to come out of his own mouth, to the same people that it had effected so many years ago.

But if Raven was seriously adamant on finding her real parents, he would have no other choice but to support her decision and then tell her something which he felt needed to be told. It was time she knew. She was after all fourteen years old, and a very mature girl who could take on a lot of things. But could she take on the burden of knowing who her real parents were? That was the real question and problem Bruce Wayne was facing. But no matter how many inner demons he was fighting off at this point in time, he knew. He knew that he would have to stop pretending and face the facts and the truth like a man! No more hiding! The truth would have to come out. Even if it meant risking everything for one curious girl who wanted to find out who she really was.

Authors note: WOW! SO LONG! This was a pain to write! I hope it was worth it guys. I myself am not so impressed with this chapter but I have changed it two times already and this is the third and final attempt. Like I said before the story will get interesting soon. I'm currently just introducing the story and all of its characters. Next chapter will involve Oswald again. And I'll try to post it soon, but I won't be able to update as frequently as I used to due to having a busy personal life now. Anyway! Please review and tell me your thoughts! I really appreciate the support I'm receiving so far! And I'll try to get this next chapter posted soon. Thank you all.


	3. Chapter 3: Never a good day

Chapter 3: Never a good day

Authors note: Sorry for not updating in a while guys! Been sooooooooo busy! I am currently a media student at college and have been so pressured to get projects done in a week and so forth so I have been pretty stressed. This is the reason why I haven't been able to update as frequently as I used to. But due to having a week off I've been able to crack on with this chapter and finish it. Oooooh and please feel free to check out my Deviant Art page (on my profile) as I have drawn some fanart of Abigail and Oswald from my first story! Check it out if you wish! Anyway, here is this chapter! Enjoy!

Afternoons at the Iceberg Lounge were always a little dull. It mainly entailed all of the staff running around like headless chickens, aimlessly rushing to get things prepared for the evening arrivals of the upper classes. The chefs were always busy preparing their delicacies and fine foods, the cleaners swabbing the place spotless as if it were the palace of a rich prince, and the musicians arrived to start rehearsals for their later performances. Every day this happened. Monday to Saturday, six days a week, every week. It was like an endless ensue of chaos at times, especially when things went wrong. For example, a chandelier falling and crashing on a table whilst the staff tried their best to clean up the damage, or a chef making mistakes with the food and setting off the fire alarm when it all got burnt. Things like this happened far too often. But the majority of the time the owner of the business was not around to supervise. That was when his personal assistant came into the picture.

Jason Partridge was a man everyone in the Iceberg Lounge knew. He was a tall, dark haired, respectable gentleman who both the staff and the guests looked up to. A man in his mid-thirties, he had it all. He had looks, he had class, he had organization skills and above all, he had the power. Since the tragic death of Abigail Cobblepot five years ago, Partridge made an unexpected appearance at her funeral. He had gotten involved in the life of the mourning widower Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot and somehow managed to get into the picture entirely when he was hired by the original owner to take control of organizing the business while the man grieved for his own losses. Some people did question his sudden involvement with Cobblepot and his business, but no one really looked into it deeply, for Partridge was a pleasant man who only wanted what was best for Oswald Cobblepot. Over time Partridge became a very sophisticated gentleman who was pleasant to everyone and took running the business very seriously. At first, people thought he would run the business for a temporary time until Cobblepot finally got over the loss of his wife and would resume running the business himself... but he never did recover. So Jason took it on as a full time thing! He was the one who held the business together in Cobblepot's absence. If it weren't for him, the business would have most definitely have fallen apart.

But with this power, Partridge did not have complete control. He still had to inform Cobblepot of what changes he was making to the nightclub and how it was run. Cobblepot approved of most of the things he had put forward none-the-less, but it was his business so he didn't want to hand it over completely. Not yet anyways. But despite this, Partridge was content to have the lounge in his capable hands. He had ran things very smoothly and rarely gave into the stresses that are usually caused by running such a large business as the Iceberg Lounge. And he was now an accepted member of a highly acceptable crowd of the wealthy and upper class people. But despite all of this, most people did not know much about him. His past before Cobblepot hired him was all but unknown to everyone, even Oswald himself. Most presumed he was an eccentric businessman, but no one knew for sure. No one really bothered to pry into Jason Partridge's past though. Everyone saw him as a loyal, hardworking, good looking and well mannered gentleman who was doing a 'smashing' job at running the business in its previous owners absence. Actually... come to think of it, the guests seemed to enquire more about Mr. Oswald Cobblepot himself rather than his assistant.

Since the death of his beloved wife, it seemed that Oswald Cobblepot had lost the will to live. He was rarely seen out and about, and it was only in real emergencies or necessary times that he ever showed his face to his guests. This of course caused questions to arise. Especially since Cobblepot was always present to welcome his guests back in the days when he and his wife ran the business. Some people pitied the poor old bird for his depressive ways, while others just took it as an excuse to pry into his life even more. The media were the worst at this. They always came around asking for an exclusive interview or report on his life. And every time they got turned away. Oswald Cobblepot was in no means interested in explaining his actions to others, or the reasons why he isolated himself from the rest of society as much as possible. He knew they didn't and would never understand what it was like. He had so much hurt and tragedy happen to him all of his life. And the death of his wife took him over the edge and made him lose all hope of continuing life as normal. He made attendances to work every day sure, but he remained in his office filling out forms and pondering over past memories rather than involving himself with his staff or his guests.

Today was just your average afternoon in the Iceberg Lounge. It was 3 o'clock and the staff had two hours to prepare before the doors opened and the guests came flooding in with their posh suits on, and their money and chequebooks at the ready. The jazz musicians stood all on stage as they rehearsed some of their new songs or re-rehearsed some old ones they had played before on previous nights. The waiters and waitresses all set up each table by folding napkins correctly and adjusting seats to the right tables. And of course the chefs were all cursing at each other in the kitchens about the 'night special dish'.

"I told you it is the salmon steak dinner with a side of salad you nitwit!" Shouted one "Good grief man can't you get anything right?!"

"I'm sorry sir, you told me it was the chicken soufflé casserole, just this morning!" Exclaimed another.

But instead of focussing on the staff of the establishment doing their daily preparations for the evening, the more important things were happening upstairs in the office of the manager. Not Partridge, but Mr. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot himself. At a point where he just wanted to be left alone, something would happen that would potentially ruin his day for the worst. Not that this day was a good one to him. Today was the day before the five year anniversary of his wife's murder. And what was about to happen would turn his mood down for the worst.

Oswald Cobblepot sat in his leather spinning chair, tossing from side to side as he gazed out of the window of his office. He obviously had much on his mind. Today was a Thursday, not a particularly busy day of the week for him, but this week a lot troubled him, obviously to everyone around him. Twiddling his thumbs aimlessly he watched as the people below walked about their day-to-day lives. Some just walking on the pavement like emotionless robot droids in those Sci-Fi movies, and others were more frantic and paranoid, especially those who had screaming toddlers or whining children to deal with. On the occasion there would be some silly so-and-so crossing the road, and of course, would almost get hit by a car, whilst the drivers blasted their horns like it was something they just HAD to press constantly. Ah, the joys of city life.

A gentle knock at the door made Oswald turn his attentions away from the window. He turned, his chair and his position, to see his bright, young employee Isabel standing at the slightly ajar door with a tray in both of her hands. Oswald returned her cheerful grin with a small, rather plain, smile, but did not wish to look upset in front of the poor girl. Placed on the tray were an array of things: a newspaper, a glass of juice and a small plate with a few biscuits on it.

"Sir, sorry to disturb you, but I thought you would want a nice cold glass of orange juice and a light snack," she spoke apologetically with that sweet tone of hers. Oswald nodded almost instantly and stood from his chair.

"Oh, thank you my dear," he smiled a bit more now ushering her to come into the room. Isabel did as gestured and placed the silver tray on his desk and lifted the drink and biscuits off of the tray to place them down in front of him. She then lifted up the paper and handed it to him as she placed the tray under her arms to carry it away more comfortably.

"You may want to read page three," she suggested handing him the paper, still grinning "you're friend Jervis... ummm... Tetch! That's it! Tetch! Made the papers today." She blushed as she forgot his name for a second and somehow blurted it when she remembered. Oswald chuckled a little and lifted his monocle up to his eye as he glanced at the paper. The main headline on the first page caught his attention instantly. The headline 'BATMAN BLOWS IT!' with a picture of Batman getting beaten up by some thugs was what stood out mainly. Oswald knew that Batman was getting a lot of heat from the media lately. His age was definitely showing and affecting his crime fighting techniques. Younger thugs were now flooding the streets to try and get a shot at Batman and some of them had actually gotten pretty close. This was proof that Batman would have to give up his cape and cowl sooner or later. Because that vigilante was aging just like his old Rogues gallery, and they had all (but a few anyway) retired from crime, so soon Batman would have to retire from crime fighting.

"Thank you Lark," Oswald winked and smirked a little at his obviously embarrassed employee. "I'll be sure to take a look."

"Umm... you're most welcome sir," she finally stuttered taking the under her arm and walking out of the room in an awkward silence, acting rather silly about her little blurting escapade.

As soon as the door shut, Oswald looked down at the paper with a curious eye. He took a sip of his juice and opened up the paper to the page his employee had suggested. Page three. At first, Oswald hardly noticed it. That was before he saw the Alice in Wonderland title, and then he instantly got the message. The words 'THE MAD HATTER ENTERS WONDERLAND' first caught his eye, then he read the sub-heading. 'Hat maker Jervis Tetch hits the jackpot as he joins the costume crew for the latest Alice in Wonderland feature film, due to hit cinemas late next year!" Oswald instantly smiled after he read this. It made him happy to see one of his closest friends do something worthwhile with their life. Even at their age. And of course he knew how obsessed Tetch was with Alice in Wonderland, even after he was declared sane from Arkham ten years ago. Like Cobblepot and Nygma, Tetch had opened up his own business, a hat shop. He made all sorts of hats for the people of Gotham city. And his craftsmanship was fantastic. It had now most certainly paid off if he was to be a costume designer in the movie industry.

After reading that pleasant article about his friend, Oswald continued to flick through the paper to see various reports about Batman, Harvey Dent's psychological rehabilitation and Commissioner Bennett's new anti-crime and vigilante campaign. Not that appealing to him. Of course he briefly glanced at the columns on his old arch rival/fellow criminal Two-Face and his mental and physical rehabilitation programs he was now taking. Two-Face was always a difficult person to deal with back in his days as the Penguin, but Oswald did come to pity the poor man. His multiple personality was a pretty darn strong thing to fight! He didn't know who had it worse, the Ventriloquist or Two-Face. Both were possessed by the bad side of their personalities when actually the real men were actually pleasant people. He was only thankful that his dear Abigail didn't go down the same path as Two-Face when those thugs caused her 'accident' over twenty years ago. At one point he feared the worst, especially when she became the Nightingale. But her physical and mental scars aside, she never went down the path into insanity. Her anger and hatred towards those who did her wrong just got a bit over the top sometimes. But who was he to talk? That was how he started out as the Penguin and drove him to crime also.

Cobblepot's face fell instantly when he saw an article featuring none other than him and a certain topic he had just managed to get out of his head. The anniversary of the death of his wife. The headline 'FIVE YEARS ON, PENGUIN MOURNS OVER THE LOSS OF HIS NIGHTINAGLE!' Stood out like a classic painting that the Joker had vandalized in an art gallery with bright green spray paint. And it made him cringe even more when he saw who had written this slanderous article. None other than the self-righteous Ms. Summer Gleeson. Oswald grew to detest that woman in his days as the Penguin, but now he hated her even more! Even after his final reform, Gleeson never got the hint to leave him alone. And she was one of the main reasons he isolated himself from society. He couldn't go anywhere without being asked for an 'exclusive interview' and he was growing pretty damn tired of it, and her especially.

Oswald felt his heart sink as he glanced away from the text to see two pictures at the side of the article. The first one was an older photo, taken in their criminal days. The picture showed the Nightingale pointing a gun in the direction of the Batman, who was in the background of the picture. It of course, showed her scarring very well for an aging photo. And this put a damper on Oswald's spirits to be reminded of his criminal days as the Penguin and hers as the Nightingale. But what pained him even more was the picture underneath that one. She just HAD to use that photo didn't she? Curse Summer Gleeson and all of her damn reporting ways. The photo was the one some very lucky photographer managed to take not long after the murder. It revealed Oswald holding the body of his dead wife weeping with a bit of blood showing underneath. Obviously the majority of it was edited out through the media being banned from showing too much violence. He never knew who took it, but if he ever found out, he would hunt them down and kill them personally. It wasn't a pleasant image at best, but for Oswald it was a hundred times worse seeing it. He hated to be reminded of that moment. The single moment that was the worst in his entire life. Well there was another that came close second but he refused to ever mention that to anyone. Oh, the media knew about that too. But they kept quiet about it. He wasn't sure if they had forgotten or just didn't wish to bring it up. Either way, it was a long time ago. And that other, shear heart throbbing, moment was lost in time along with his criminal ways. It was after all... the reason he had reformed.

Placing a single hand on the paper, he adjusted his monocle to read the full article and see what new lies and rumours had been put forward by the self-righteous reporter herself. And he wasn't disappointed in the slightest. In fact, everything in this article screamed slanderous and biased. Just as expected from Summer Gleeson. The article read:

_As tomorrow marks the five year anniversary since the death of Abigail Cobblepot, previously the Nightingale, the public ask, where is Oswald Cobblepot? Since the murder of his wife and previous partner in crime, the restaurateur has rarely been seen or heard from by anyone. He has refused any involvement with the media and is rarely seen by his guests. So I, Summer Gleeson have taken it upon myself to try and figure out what this man is trying to hide. Could it be the guilt of not being able to save her? Or is it just a lonely old man living in another world, trying to escape reality? Keep reading, people of Gotham! Summer Gleeson will try to fathom this mystery out once and for all!_

Tossing the paper aside, Oswald placed his head in his hands as his elbows rested on his desk. He let out a small groan and a deep sigh as he caressed his temple with one of his flipper-like fingers. He really wasn't up for this. And he knew tomorrow would be the hardest day of all. And he dreaded it. God knows he tried! He tried with all of his might to let the past go. But he just couldn't. His mind lived in the past, back when times were happy and his life was filled with love and laughter. Now, in the harsh depths of reality, all his shell of a life was filled with loneliness and constant reminders of death and depression. And he just couldn't let go. But deep down he knew he couldn't live like this forever. But something pretty special would have to happen to make his life not feel as empty again.

This time Oswald's head shot up swiftly when the door creaked open with no knocking sound. A voice soon followed which made him more alert. "Sir?"

Oswald's eyes were then fixed on the figure who stood in the doorway. It was a youngish gentleman with brown, shiny, short hair wearing a new posh tuxedo that was obviously made by a professional to fit perfectly on his slim, slightly muscular body. Oswald knew this man quite well, and had come accustomed to his appearance often. He was after all the man who was running his self-made business in his absence. Mr. Jason Partridge.

"Jason," Oswald began, trying to force a cheerful tone in his voice "what can I do for you?"

"Well," the man began as he walked calmly and rather gracefully, into the room "are you busy at this current moment?"

Oswald briefly glanced down at the newspaper he had tossed aside, still showing that slanderous and rather hurtful article he had seen. He then risen his head again trying to act normal before he spoke to his younger personal assistant. "No I am not. May I ask why you asked?"

The man shifted his feet keeping his eyes locked on the paper as his boss glanced down at it. When Oswald spoke, his eyes were still locked on the newspaper, but he soon shifted his eyes back to the older gentleman. And a small smile appeared on his ever handsome features as he replied. "Well, the staff downstairs were hoping you'd take a look at the Lounge this evening. They have worked even harder to make it nicer for the guests and I think the _'Big Boss'_ himself should take a look. To humour them more than me."

"I understand what you mean Jason," Oswald began, taking off his monocle and wiping it with a bit of old cloth he had tucked in his pocket. "But I don't feel like coming down tonight."

"Come on sir, you say that every night!" Jason responded with a particular tone of voice that Oswald wasn't too keen on. Jason then gazed awkwardly at his shoes while clearing his throat before continuing. The look Cobblepot had given him screamed greatly of disapproval. And the last thing he wanted was to upset his employer even more than he already was. "Forgive me for sounding rude or anything, but the staff work extremely hard to keep this place in the splendid condition that it is. I just feel that you could show your appreciation by making an appearance when the guests arrive and thank them for it. When they aren't as busy preparing for the guests."

"There is only one thing that makes me weary of making appearances such as that, Jason," Oswald began arising from his chair to turn and face the window, placing both hands behind his back. "And that would be the questions people would ask. And the last thing I want is a reporter getting the wrong idea and finding out anything slanderous to put into their articles. Or even making up a total pack of lies to feed the public, just as they have done in the past. I feel I cannot step outside anymore without being pestered or constantly reminded of the fact my wife is no longer with me. Even a brief stay downstairs could cause something to go awry."

"I'll make sure that doesn't happen sir," Jason explained confidently as he walked around his employer's desk to approach him at the window. "You only have to make a short appearance, and then you can come back up to your office, or even head home to your apartment. I know you'll wish to prepare for tomorrow, so I don't mind keeping this place open until its closing time."

"I cannot tell you how much I appreciate that Jason," Oswald turned his head with an assuring smile appearing on his aging features. He nodded and then turned back to his desk. "I'm sure a five minute check up on the staff and the establishment couldn't hurt. I'll do it."

"That is great to hear that sir," Jason clasped his hands together triumphantly "I'll inform the staff of your later appearance."

As he turned to leave, Oswald placed a hand out quickly, gaining the younger man's attention again "Just," he paused making sure he had Jason's full attention. "Don't get telling anyone else. I do not wish word to get out to the wrong sorts of people."

"I understand," Jason nodded "this will only be told to the staff and no one else in the establishment."

"Thank you," Oswald said gratefully as his younger assistant left the room abruptly to continue preparations for the evening and inform the employees or their employer's later arrival to check upon them all. Oswald merely sat back down and began to sign some more documents, now completely ignoring the paper and that diabolical article. He just hoped nothing would go wrong tonight. But fate was never kind of Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. And if he knew what would happen later that evening... he would have most certainly said no to what Jason asked of him.

...

"Batman blows it?!"

Bruce Wayne/Batman couldn't believe that the media had gotten so involved in that fight he lost with those two thugs the other night. Some idiot had even gotten a close up of him on the ground being kicked by them! Urgh, this was it these days. All humiliation and no praise or respect for the Batman. The riff raff he was taking down these days, were not half as respectable as the older criminals he took on back when he was younger. And that was by criminal standards. Back in his younger days, a group of thugs would try and take him down with punches or physical fist fighting, with the odd gun involved of course. But these days, it all entailed of 'tough talk' and a lot of cool modern slang words these kids today used with the occasional lucky hit or kick. And even though they were all scum back in the day, at least they knew when to back down. Most of the teenage punks he fought these days never knew when to quit! And now, due to his age, he was taking the fall a lot harder than he ever did. But he still didn't know when to quit himself. Guess that was a trait he took from the punks on the streets.

Angered, Batman tossed the newspaper across the side of the area at which his computer was located in his bat cave. He was so sick of the media portraying him as a joke who needed to retire. Was this what his legacy had come to? Everyone picking every fault with the smallest of mistakes. Or did everyone just assume the Batman made no mistakes? If so, then the people of Gotham city were dumber than he had anticipated them to be.

Actually, Batman had made many mistakes over the years. Some more devastating than others. Because he was only just one man, he couldn't be everywhere at once. And this had caused some serious tragedies to happen over the years. After all, he hadn't been there to save Abigail Nighting from being turned into the Nightingale, nor had he been there to stop Two-Face from going on that massacre in the Gotham bank in the middle of the day which resulted in the death of over fifty people. And of course these things were never forgotten. Actually these things plagued his mind 24/7. All of these failures made him feel like he owed the city more and more. And as a way to make up for these mistakes, he continued on and on to fight as much crime as possible. Not even thinking of his own health and wellbeing.

Batman then went onto his computer searching through the reports on the upcoming trial dates of the men he had just handed over to the authorities. He knew he needed sleep. His head felt so thick and heavy and that same constant niggle in his brain would not go away. But he wasn't going to catch up on his sleep any time soon. He had work to do. Even though his injuries from the other night still hurt like hell and any sudden movements made him feel like he was about to collapse.

His eyes began to droop down in a sleepy state despite his urge to stay awake. Bruce was unsure how long he would be able to last before he would have to give in to his body's demands. Why was crime fighting so tiring these days? It seemed like he was always constantly tired. Well... more so than usual. He knew age had something to do with it but he didn't like to admit it. The stubborn man that he was.

Suddenly something made him full alert and his drooping eyes shot open wider than a person's eyes in a horror movie. It was his computer alert. But it wasn't telling him any alerts from the police about any criminal activities. Actually, it was his phone line. And the person calling was none other than Miss Julia Weathers herself. Batman rubbed his eyes, sat up and groaned a little before pressing the button to receive the call. After all of this, he put on his lightly toned Bruce Wayne voice, rather than his gruff usual Batman voice.

"Hello Julia," he began cheerfully.

"Hello Bruce," came an equally cheerful reply from the other end. Surprisingly there were no screaming children in the background. Bruce automatically assumed this phone call was being made in her office, where no children were allowed.

"What can I do for you?"

"Well," Julia began "you know what happened the other day when you came to visit? Regarding Raven that is."

"Yes?" Bruce sat closer to his computer with a cautious tone in his voice. As soon as she mentioned Raven, he knew whatever she had to say couldn't be good. She was probably going to throw the book at him for the conversation he and the teenage girl had the other day.

"Well after some kind of miracle talk she had with you the other day," Miss Weathers paused a second and then responded with a much quieter tone "she seems... to have been determined to find her real parents."

"I see..." was Bruce's only response.

"You think it is time... don't you?"

Bruce sat back not saying a word for several moments. He knew exactly what Miss Weathers was implying, and he would have no choice but to answer her question. So he decided to be truthful and just let it out.

"Yes," he paused then continuing "she has never felt like she belongs at the orphanage. And she is a lost, lonely girl with barely any friends or anyone who really understands what she is going through. Now she wants the truth. And we both know we cannot keep it from her forever."

"But what about what we promised?" Miss Weathers asked "didn't we vow to leave it until she turned sixteen, if she never got adopted?"

"Well we never anticipated that she would ever want to know who her parents are," Bruce explained "but I fear that she may not react well to the news."

"I guess we would have to do it some day," Julia breathed out deeply over the phone causing a bit of static down the line. "Oh if only Batman were here to explain things, the way he did to me years ago." She then paused awaiting Bruce's response, but he remained quiet down the line. So she then decided to ask him the all important question "so... when do you think we should tell her?"

Bruce got up and picked up the paper he had thrown at the floor not long ago. As he crouched down to pick it up, his eyes fell upon a particular article that caught his eye almost instantly. It had the heading 'FIVE YEARS ON, PENGUIN MOURNS OVER THE LOSS OF HIS NIGHTINAGLE!' And Bruce's face fell instantly when he saw that. His mind went off of the phone conversation he was currently having with Miss Weathers entirely at this point. His eyes wandered across the page to stare at the pictures beside the article itself. He then realized something! Tomorrow was the anniversary of the death of one of his old adversaries, the Nightingale. He had suspected this was no coincidence of the recent events. Tomorrow Oswald Cobblepot would grieve, and tomorrow would be the time that he had prepared himself for over the past fourteen years. This was it.

"Mr. Wayne?" Julia's voice broke his silent thoughts "Bruce? Are you there?"

"S-s-sorry Julia!" Bruce finally spoke out as his dragged himself up and walked back over to his computer screen "what was that?"

"I asked you, when do you think we should tell her, the you know...?"

"Tomorrow." Bruce replied, his face then gazing down back at the newspaper.

"That soon?" Came a shocked response from Julia.

"Yes," Bruce began "I'll come around tomorrow afternoon and we can tell her together. I think it is time she learned the truth from us before she uncovers it for herself and puts herself in more trouble than she expects."

Miss Weathers let out a sigh over the line again, this time more deeper and emotive. She, like Bruce, knew this wasn't going to be easy. But it needed to be done. Both she and Bruce Wayne knew something that had happened to the poor girl when she was a child. And they both knew deep down, that it needed to be told to the same girl who it entailed. "Alright then Bruce. We can tell her after she does her paper rounds tomorrow after four. Perhaps if you come over around half three in the afternoon?"

"That'll be fine," Bruce said calmly "I'll see you then."

"This won't be easy you know," Julia spoke out just as Bruce was about to end the call. Bruce could detect the dread in the tone of her voice, and he could understand why she felt like this.

"I know Julia," Bruce continued "I don't even think even the Batman would know how to tell her, what we are about to. But she's a strong independent girl who would never hurt anyone. I'm sure she'll take it better than we think."

A small chuckle could be heard down the line "I wish I shared your optimism Mr. Wayne."

"Anyway Julia, I am rather busy with this work from my company," Bruce lied trying to conceal a yawn "I will see you tomorrow."

"Goodbye Mr. Wayne." Julia replied finally as both of them ended the call.

Pressing the end call button on his computer, Bruce groaned and leaned his head against his chair. He was dreading tomorrow with a passion. He had no way of how he would even start to explain things to the teenage girl. But it would be done, in some way or another. He wasn't going to let something that had haunted him for the past fourteen years consume him any longer. It was time to let things go. let the past be the past. And above all... tell the truth to the one girl who deserved to know it. No matter how bad or complex it may be.

...

An evening at the Iceberg Lounge. Most guests would kill to get a table in that nightclub. Considered one of the best clubs in all of Gotham city, the Iceberg Lounge was a great place to meet new people, take in the nice atmosphere, mix with the upper classes and also eat the lovely food they served. Most people actually didn't expect much from Oswald Cobblepot when he finally reformed along with his partner Abigail Nighting. They had expected them to turn back to crime within the first couple of weeks of their release. But no one, I repeat... NO ONE, expected the pair to open up a business, let alone a nightclub. Within a few weeks after his release, Cobblepot managed to save up some money from his old bank accounts and build up enough money to buy out an old abandoned warehouse next to the Gotham Natural History museum. He planned on renovating it out entirely and transformed it into what was now known as the Iceberg Lounge. Took almost two years to remodel, but the end result was incredible! At not long after he brought the place, he had asked Abigail to be his wife. So everything seemed to go right for Oswald Cobblepot. That was until... that one night that turned his world upside down, forever.

It was five thirty in the evening. The doors to the Iceberg Lounge had opened at five and already the club was practically full. All the rich men and women with their high class friends, all sitting around a table listening to the soothing jazz music the band was playing on the stage in the corner of the Lounge. There was of course the rather large pool located at the other part of the Lounge with ice bergs and some seals swimming inside the ice cold water. This was also a popular attraction for the guests to attend this club in particular. It was so intriguing to have these particular animals in an Antarctic themed club.

Stood at the entrance of the club stood a very keen and sneaky woman, eager to be let in by the doorman who was welcoming each guest. The middle aged woman with, obviously dyed, red hair tied back neatly, stood concealing something in the pocket of her turquoise dress. She kept checking her watch impatiently as the doorman let each guest through. Now towards the front of the cue, she prayed to heck that she wouldn't be recognized by the doorman. For she was a well-known woman in Gotham city. And recently known for her involvement with Oswald Cobblepot's personal life. This woman was no other than the reporter, and now journalist, for Gotham Live, Ms. Summer Gleeson.

"Thank you very much sir, madam, enjoy your evening!" The doorman called to the couple who were just in front of Summer. His attentions then fell on Summer and she hoped the heck, that he would turn a blind eye or wouldn't know who she was.

"Good evening madam," he smiled taking off his hat to reveal his nicely combed black hair.

"Good evening," she returned his smile and beamed eagerly as he opened the door.

"Say," he began, pointing a single finger in her direction "do I know you?"

"I doubt it," she replied feeling rather nervous all of a sudden. Her cover could be blown.

"I swear I have seen your face before," he continued much to her anticipation "but hey, I deal with celebrities all of the time. I should be used to recognizing regulars by now..."

Summer did a fake nervous chuckle as she handed him the required fee to get in with. Usually she would just show her reporter pass and get in for nothing, but tonight she was undercover. She needed to be secret about this. She was desperate for information for her article she was writing on Cobblepot. And if it meant snooping around the Iceberg Lounge to get that information, then so be it. After all, it wasn't like she hadn't taken risks to get a story before. This was actually going to be an awful lot easier than some of her stories she had done. At least she wasn't being held hostage by the Joker this time around. The worst that could happen was her being kicked out of the club. That wasn't so bad, compared to other things...

Walking through the Lounge she pushed past people, politely of course, and her eyes searched the entire Lounge curiously. Summer wandered around aimlessly for five whole minutes just getting to grips with her surroundings and who was present at the scene. She obviously knew the majority of the people in the Lounge, she was a reporter and they had all made the news at one point over the years. After finally taking a mental note of who was present and what was going on, she decided to sit down at a table and start to get to work. She flipped out her notepad and a pen from one of her pockets in her dress and began taking notes, not many as there were not that many to take at this current point. But she would stay all evening if she had to. A good reporter would do anything to get a good story. And if they meant staying and waiting in one spot for several hours, then so be it.

As she began taking the notes, she heard muttering voices from the nearby tables. She didn't catch a lot. Just the odd word. But that was all it took to get her instantaneous attention. The odd words she heard were "Cobblepot" and "here". Lifting her head up, she glanced over at the people who were muttering to each other and then followed their gazes, and when her eyes fell on a particular person, her eyes beamed up like a child on Christmas day.

There stood Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot himself, shaking a few hands with his staff and a few of his guests, half way across the Lounge from where Gleeson was seated. But even at this distance, Summer knew he was not enjoying himself. Not one bit. She could tell this from past experience. She had, after all, gained a bad reputation over the years for certain people, who all greatly despised her for prying into their lives for her articles and news stories. And she knew that if she pursued Cobblepot when he departed from the room to go back into his solitary confinement, he would be very moody with her. But she really needed some information for her article. And she would get it by no means necessary. Even if it meant pestering the old bird until he finally cracked like an egg.

She waited for over ten minutes. Her eyes fixed on Cobblepot the entire time. He hadn't noticed her, but he did notice a lot of people start to murmur and talk about him from table to table. And it was obviously bothering him an awful lot now. Gleeson noticed him speak to his personal assistant, Jason Partridge, a familiar face she had interviewed countless times before. And by the looks of it, Oswald Cobblepot was preparing to leave the Lounge to go back up to his office. Now was her first, and only chance. She only had one shot at this, so she had better make it count.

As soon as the old bird began to waddle away heading towards the side door at the end of the Lounge, Summer Gleeson arose from her seat, putting her notepad and pen inside her pocket and out of sight until she was away from the crowds. She then began to pursue him by making her way across the Lounge to follow him through that door. When she came close to going through the door, she made sure no one saw her as she existed the Lounge. The last thing she wanted was some security guards spotting her and throwing her out just as things were getting good. So she was extra careful when it came to this. Pushing through a single door as fast as possible, she turned her head left and right down the long corridor. When she looked left, she saw nothing but an empty dead end, but when she looked right, a small mischievous smirk appeared on her face. Bingo!

"Mr. Cobblepot!" She called out, now running towards him as he slowly turned around. Oswald's face instantly fell when his eyes looked upon her. He placed his umbrella in front of him and snarled at the reporter as she flipped out her tape voice recorder from her other pocket. "If I could just take a few minutes of your time to answer some questions and-"

"I won't say anything to you!" Oswald snapped interrupting her harshly. Her pleasant smile now turned into a rather shocked expression. Oswald glared up at her as he continued "whatever you have to ask me, I will not answer."

"But Mr. Cobblepot, you must understand I am trying to do my job, and the public deserves to know why you have refused the media the privilege of an interview these past five years." Summer replied trying to act rather innocent in front of the man. But Oswald was having none of it.

"I saw the slanderous filth you put about me in the newspaper today," Oswald snarled "don't you think I know where this is going? I have had it up to here with you reporters nosing around into my personal life, prying into affairs that do not even concern you! Can't an aging man like myself just mind his own business and not get pestered by the media every five minutes over the death of my wife that happened five years ago?"

"You know," Summer began, placing a hand on her hip as her tone changed to that of an argumentative one "if you didn't keep yourself locked away and make only the occasional appearance in public or even your own Lounge, the media or the general public wouldn't have to keep pestering you for answers. Ever since the night of your wife's murder you have avoided the press like the plague, and yet you wonder why we all keep asking for you to answer our questions?"

"Well you shouldn't interfere in my life! Can't you all just focus on your own miserable lives instead of hindering mine constantly?" Oswald questioned not losing that cold glare, even for a second.

"Well in case you haven't noticed Mr. Cobblepot, we reporters have to make it our business to interfere with other people's lives. At least we live in the real world, unlike what can be said for you." That was it. Oswald couldn't take it any more. He simply shook his head distastefully and turned around to walk away before replying to her comment.

"I wouldn't expect your kind to understand," he began with a very bitter tone "you biased, self-righteous, pig headed reporters are the reasons why this city is falling apart. You stereotype the older generation to be anti-social, depressive loners just as you do with the young calling them feeble minded hooligans. Yet you have no concept of what we generations feel or do with our own lives. And as for regarding me, I do think about my past when I am alone most of the time, as it is a way to escape reality and the likes of you and the rest of your selfish kind. You are always out to ruin me, hence why I do not wish to be interviewed. I don't need any more slanderous garbage you people print or report on TV, about me or my dead wife. Nor do I need my past life as the Penguin held against me. I gave up that name ten years ago. Yet you still mention it in your articles. And you say I live in the past? If you had any idea how I feel, you would know to leave me well alone and go bother somebody else. But you don't, and here you are... now I suggest you leave this establishment before I call security."

As Oswald stormed away from Gleeson down the corridor to his office, Summer decided to respond to his little speech, much to his great displeasure. "I see it now," she spoke shaking her head with her hand still placed on her hip "you don't just think about the past, you actually live in it! You lock yourself away from reality to relive the times you shared with your wife. Well I hate to break it to you Mr. Cobblepot, but your wife is gone. She has been gone for the past five years and there is nothing you can do to change that. You have obviously gone into manic depression and you are mourning over something which you should have gotten over by now. Open your eyes to reality Mr. Cobblepot! Stop living in your own little world and run your own business like a proper businessman should. If you didn't hide from the truth like you are doing now, you wouldn't have the likes of me on your back giving you a reality check every five minutes. Your wife is dead Oswald Cobblepot! I think it is time you faced the facts and got over it already!"

Oswald's eyes widened in horror at what she was saying. Disgusted was a bit of an understatement of how he was currently feeling. This woman had not only intruded in his building and followed him to ask insanely personal questions that didn't concern her, but now she was making and pointing accusations at him and telling him to get over the death of a loved one when she had no concept of how badly it hurt him. If he were the Penguin still, he wouldn't have had the hesitation of killing her brutally with one of his umbrella weapons. But alas those days were long gone. He knew he couldn't flip out on her, as that would only gain even more bad publicity. So when he reached his door and placed a hand on the doorknob, he turned half of his face in her direction and spoke rather calmly.

"I suggest you leave this establishment right now Ms. Gleeson." He told her straight "you have insulted me in every way imaginable, accused me of such affairs that do not concern you and have obviously made your opinion of me quite clear. Therefore, I have nothing further to say to you. Good evening Ms. Gleeson," and with that he opened his door and stepped inside shutting it behind him, leaving a rather gobsmacked Summer Gleeson standing alone in the corridor. This was the perfect ending to an evening. Especially the one that was just before the anniversary of the worst day of his life. Feeling even more down than before, Oswald wasn't sure of how to think. But he knew this night would go longer than he wished it to. And only bad memories would plague his dreams tonight.

There was never a good day for Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. Not anymore...

Authors note: Wow this was longer than I intended! Oh well, the more the merrier I say! Go ahead, hate Summer Gleeson if you wish. I sure do! Along with Veronica Vreeland, she is my second most despised character in BTAS so I guess I made her a little nasty in this chapter. Feel sorry for Oswald yet? Well don't worry guys, soon his life won't be as bad. I'll aim to get this next chapter done before I go back to college in just under a week. But then the updates may take a while again. My life is so busy right now! Anyway please leave a review, I love hearing your thoughts! Thank you!


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